


When The Song Goes Dead

by KyeAbove



Series: The Reinforcement Of Agony AU [79]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Angst, Gen, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 03:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyeAbove/pseuds/KyeAbove
Summary: Agony:HellThe Projectionist finds The Prophet crying in a hallway.





	When The Song Goes Dead

~Unknown~

* * *

 

From how the cries echoed and wailed, The Projectionist would have thought The Prophet was dying. The Prophet had died once before, and The Projectionist was witness. He knew he had grounds to believe he was going to find The Prophet hurt.

What The Projectionist didn’t expect was to find The Prophet curled up, cradling the pieces of a banjo.

The studio had many sorts of instruments, and even a few banjos kicking around, but that one had been Sammy’s alone. Now, it was gone. Broken.

It was clearly was the one The Projectionist remembered, from the child sized inky handprint adorning it. Too special of a mark to replicate.

“Who did this?” There was no need for insults or fighting. No emotion but loss.

“He’s the one...he looks like a...but he's...” The Prophet said, sniffling, trying to explain to the best of his knowledge, but failing. “He said I should _remember_ or just give up... But my lord would miss my absence...I’m sure.” The Prophet didn’t seem so sure about that.

The Projectionist abandoned all hesitation, and lowered himself down beside The Prophet.

“I call that freak The Volatile Man.”

“Ah. Fitting.” The Prophet pulled one of the banjo pieces closer to him. “Why did he have to break it, heathen?” The Prophet asked, addressing The Projectionist. “It’s all I had.”

“What about your family?”

“What?”

Wasn’t that just the damndest thing?

What, The Prophet asked, when he did have family among the other cursed souls of the studio. Mostly, those he’d considered family back when everyone had been human. But not just them.

“You have family here.”

“None of what you’re saying makes sense.”

The Projectionist brought a hand where his face was supposed to be, forgetting for a moment that he didn’t have one. Sammy Lawrence could be stubborn and find many ways to be stupid despite having a reasonable amount of intelligence. The Prophet seemed to have even more trouble listening than his human counterpart.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe it, they’re here. I’m sure they miss you very much.”

“Even if I did,” The Prophet said, skeptically. “What does it matter. If you know them, they must be just as unfaithful as you.”

The Projectionist wasn’t unfaithful. He just didn’t think the Ink Demon was the one worthy of praise.

When the The Projectionsit didn’t say anything further, The Prophet pushed himself closer. He was just short of leaning on The Projectionist.

“You’re good, for a non-believer. You don’t break what I love.”

“Why would I?” The Projectionist asked.

“Because you’re good. Not like that man.”

If The Volatile Man had decided to target The Prophet, something was changing in him. He was no longer acting from the sides. The Projectionist would have to deal with that. Make the man stop.

Maybe it was good The Prophet had trouble remembering people.

For now, The Projectionist would just sit here, allowing The Prophet to cry, and for once, have someone hear it.


End file.
